"Come, come, it is the truth, I assure you. All we want is to know where we are; then we will pursue our journey."
There was again a consultation among the group. Then one of them said, pugnaciously:
"You are near Weert, as you know very well."
"Weert is some few miles north-east of Maestricht," Granger remarked to Kenneth. "We don't want to know any more. I think we had better be off. They don't believe we are not Germans, and as neutrals they will hold us up if we wait until the village authorities arrive. I hope they won't show fight, for we are absolutely unarmed, and those scythes are rather formidable implements."
"We're in an awkward hole, certainly," said Kenneth. "By the look of them they'll set on to us as soon as they see us making ready to go."
"The police took my revolver when they searched me," said Granger; "otherwise we might intimidate them."
"I wonder--" began Kenneth, thrusting his hand into the inner pocket of his coat. "By Jove! What luck! Here's the policeman's revolver. Keep them back with that while I start the engine. I shall only be a minute or two."
Granger took the revolver unobtrusively. Kenneth went to the front of the aeroplane and swung the propeller round, the peasants watching him at first without understanding. When the engine began to fire, however, they realised the meaning of the movements, and came on brandishing their scythes. Granger, standing close by the seat, lifted the revolver.
"Now, my good men," he said amiably, "we are going to leave you, as you appear not to relish our company. If any of you come within a dozen yards of us I shall fire."
The men came to a halt, scowling at the little weapon pointed at them by a steady arm. Kenneth got into his seat.